


Time to be Brave

by Trotzkopf



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: First Kiss, Love, M/M, Romance, The People's Revolution of the Glorious Twenty-Fifth of May
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2020-03-17 08:05:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18961222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trotzkopf/pseuds/Trotzkopf
Summary: Happy 25th May, Discworld Fandom xx





	Time to be Brave

“Your move,” Sam Vimes leaned back in his armchair. Another person might have looked smug in this situation, but the commander saw gloating as a waste of energy. It was yet another reason why Havelock liked him.

The Patrician pursed his lips over his steepled fingers as he stared at the board. Flames from the fireplace cast a warm glow on the battle scene before him.

“It seems today the trolls will be victorious. Well done, commander!”

“You’re giving up?”

“I know when I’ve been beaten. This was…interesting.”

It truly had been. He had always maintained Thud taught you about your own weaknesses. He had lost today because he had been too cautious — too afraid — to make a wrong move, but why?

“You will beat me next time — as usual,” Sam replied.

“Maybe,” Vetinari flashed one of his lightning fast smiles.

The commander leaned forward and looked first at the board and then at his guest. They stared at each other for several heartbeats while Havelock wondered why Sam had felt it necessary to light a fire. It was late May, a heatwave had held the city in a fierce grip for some time and the room was way too hot for his liking. So hot in fact, his mouth had run dry. He cleared his throat a few times.

Vimes blinked and said, “Uhm…can I get you anything? More tea?”

Vetinari smiled politely. “No, thank you. I think I’d better get back to the palace.” He got up and carefully put his weight on his bad leg before making his way to the front door.

Vimes got there first, already taking the Patrician’s hat, coat and cane out of a concealed cupboard.

“Thank you for inviting me. The new house is very you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Vimes asked, handing over the coat.

Vetinari smiled. “It’s no nonsense. You are the richest man in the city and you live in a two-bedroom terrace with no staff.”

“Only because they needed the room at the Yard. Lots more people joining up and not all can afford the rent in our fair city, your lordship” Vimes said defensively. “And this is apparently the smallest house I own.”

Vetinari refrained from saying, you could have bought any place as large or as small as you like. But you went for this one because it was close to the Yard, yet not anywhere near Scoone Avenue where the memories of your late wife were still haunting you.

And there might be another reason, but Havelock wasn’t prepared to speculate on that one, let alone ask it out loud. It was still a very new and potentially far fetched theory.

“Why did you send your driver away if your leg gives you trouble today?” Vimes asked as he opened the door.

Why indeed? Havelock bought himself more time by putting his coat and hat back on.

Sam filled the silence by saying, “I mean, I know the palace is close —”

Havelock’s stomach somersaulted — ‘ _yes, I noticed_.’

“— and you know that I know that thing,” Vimes indicated the cane, “is just for show. At least on most days. But even I can tell a storm is coming and it’s a big one.”

He pointed at his face where a year ago a serial killer had tried his best to cut Sam’s eye out, leaving an impressive scar which Havelock knew bothered the commander whenever the weather changed for the worse.

In this trouser leg of time, Vimes had only been gone for thirty minutes, but as Havelock later remembered — and it was a memory, but one that only surfaced after Vimes had returned to the present —for Sam it had been days. Days stuck in the past where they had not exactly met for the first time. When Havelock had stepped out of the shadows in the cemetery and they spoke, it felt as if someone dear he had thought lost had returned to him, and nothing had been quite the same between them ever since.

In the here and now, thunder rolled in the distance. The wind picked up, carrying the scent of lilacs in bloom through the open door.

“I’d better—”

“You should stay,” Vimes cut in and Havelock’s heart jumped into his throat. He slowly turned his head. When Sam saw his expression, the commander added, “Until the storm blows over, I mean. No sense in the Patrician catching a cold, is there?”

Havelock cleared his throat and replied, “That might take all night.”

Vimes shrugged. “So what?”

He should go. There was work at the palace. There was always work. Blessed distraction from wanting what he shouldn’t want. And he wanted. Had wanted for some time now. Vetinari looked back into the house where the Thud board was outlined against the glow of the fire.

Maybe it was time to be brave.

“Commander, are we…friends?” Havelock asked, looking back at Sam. Outside the first raindrops hit the pavement.

“…no,” Sam slowly shook his head, worrying his lower lip.

Havelock took a small step forward, looking into Sam’s eyes and hoping, wanting but still not quite daring to see the emotions he had so carefully concealed reflected.

“May I?” Havelock whispered, leaning in, his intention obvious.

It was Sam who closed the gap, pulling Havelock closer by the lapels and pressing their lips together.

“Stay,” Sam murmured before he kissed him again.

The door clicked shut as Havelock shrugged out of his coat, pulling Sam closer while the sky opened, releasing a torrent and bringing blessed relieve from the oppressing heat.

The End


End file.
